


Past Payments

by silentmoon746



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Defending your friends, Don't Come After the Inquisitor, F/F, Family Drama, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Josephine is a badass, Leliana (Dragon Age) Knows All, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentmoon746/pseuds/silentmoon746
Summary: Inquisitor Anaya Trevelyan's past isn't spoken of often, and none of the Inner Circle would ever pry. But when an unexpected and unwelcome guest comes knocking, they will do whatever to ensure she's never hurt again.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Sera (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Past Payments

It was common knowledge that one should never ask how the Inner Circle got where they were. Considering the variety of backgrounds, you would have to be daft, or suicidal to ask about their lives.

This was especially true of Inquisitor Trevelyan.

While the lineage of the Trevelyan family was known throughout the Free Marches, and through certain familial circles, Anaya Trevelyan was a mystery. The eldest child of the family, she was raised with an education and etiquette, and groomed for an eventual marriage of convenience. But rumor was quick of her wildness.

Often seen disappearing in the gardens at all times, to train they whispered, with swords and spears. The head of the family denied such rumors, stating his beautiful daughter would never disobey, and held the family’s name to the highest honor.

She had prospects for a marriage at 18 to a man from Fereldan, an Arl’s son, some said.

At 17, Anaya left the family household.

“Traveling for her education”, the Trevelyan’s said, averting eyes. No one mentioned how the Bann no longer spoke as if he had a daughter any longer.

So rumors spread, whispers that died out after some time. Until they were just idle chatter that was brought up in parties when scandals were mentioned in passing, or at tea parties when pretty ladies spoke of the horrors of brash women.

For her part, Anaya would gladly tell you she was a smuggler. Would proudly declare it with a smirk and a wink. After some drinks she’d might even point out the scar on her cheek-where her father’s ring had cut when he’d slapped her the night she’d left.

A drunk Cassandra had even cooed at it sadly, petting it gently. “A comrade in arms,” she had mumbled drunkenly, giving the scar a loud smacking kiss- one she would later deny. It seemed that familial issues was a common place occurrence in the Inner Circle.

Anaya Trevelyan did not speak of family. A mysterious rebel, a swordsman with a sarcastic bite and quick blade.

People spoke of the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor with awe. Talked of her covered in blood, ready to face a dragon alone, or an Arch Demon. Speaking with a booming voice of authority, and of power.

The Inner Circle however saw something a little different.

Anaya was simply, Anaya. A woman who made it a habit to check on her friends every day, invite them to drinks, or to chat of their problems. One who laughed at The Iron Bull’s dirty jokes, or giggled with Sera over a terrible prank. A woman who cowered at Lady Vivienne’s comments on her outfits, or at Josephine’s scolding on noble interactions. A woman who would hug a feared Tevinter mage, or place flower crowns on a spirit child’s head. One who cried at Mabari puppies, and wept over the lost spirits of the fade.

The Inner Circle would rather die than see Anaya hurt in anyway. Emotionally or physically.

So when the carriage arrived at Skyhold one chilly morning, a grey carriage baring the signet of House Trevelyan on its side, Lelianna was quick in having her personal agents greet the occupants before any others.

Quicker still in locating the Inquisitor’s current whereabouts within the keep.

And as a personal measure, walked down herself to the entrance of Skyhold.

The woman who exited the carriage was in her sixties, at least. A shock of silver hair was tied high, drawing tight a face that was familiar in features. Her dress was of a casual black, with a warm shawl to keep the chilly breeze from the mountains away.

While her face was much like the Inquisitor’s, the eyes held none of the warmth or humor Anaya’s did. Lelianna had only to look at the guest once over to determine two things. This was the matron of the Trevelyan family, Corinthia Trevelyan, and mother of the Inquisitor. And she wore the clothes of a mourner.

“Lady Trevelyan,” Lelianna greeted, keeping her tone light and easy. “To what do we owe this great pleasure?”

The matron gave the surrounding area of Skyhold a curious sniff, before sending her weary eyes to the Nightingale.

“I have come to speak with my daughter.”

“If you have official business with the Inquisition, I believe our Ambassador Josephine would be able to-“

“I will speak with my daughter, and no one else.”

“I’m afraid the Inquisitor is unavailable at the moment, but if you would come with me. It is rather cold out, I’m sure you would like to warm yourself.”

Without another word, and ignoring Lady Trevelyan’s possible rebuttal, Lelianna turned around and began to ascend the steps towards the main hall. She knew that Anaya was currently with Dorian in the library. And most likely would be there for some time (the two loved to partake in an hour of chess and gossip whenever they had time on hand).

This gave her and Josephine ample amount of time to manage whatever news Corinthia Trevelyan had to share, and send her on her way.

“Hey Red!”

As Lelianna crossed the hall towards Josephine’s office, the voice caused her to falter. She felt the presence of Lady Trevelyan behind her, as well as the two attendants she knew scrambled to keep up. The sight of the large Qunari would most likely cause them pause, and she could not afford to allow The Iron Bull to reveal the Inquisitor’s true whereabouts.

“The Iron Bull,” she said at length, halting any words he might speak next. “I believe Vivienne was looking for you, something about tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yes, something about a new tea from the Free Marches, a bitter one she thought you might appreciate.”

Iron Bull’s eyes changed, the subtle color of confusion to understanding only really ever seen through those who knew him. Luckily two spies had an innate ability to read each other like books.

“Ah, right. The tea. I will join her immediately.”

“Yes, you would be remise to leave the good Duchess waiting.”

As he started away, Lelianna took an extra precaution. “You might see if Dorian would like some too. I heard he’s looking for new flavors.”

The Iron Bull merely nodded, and she watched as he disappeared through the entrance way that led up towards the library.

“Is that all the Inquisition talks about,” she heard Lady Trevelyan sniff out. “Tea?”

“Small talk for crucial times. It’s important to keep things light in between battles. Keeps moral up.”

“Ridiculous.”

Lelianna mentally clenched her jaw to keep from speaking out of term, only gave a hollow smile. While Lelianna enjoyed the Orlesian customs of The Game, and the intricacies of the talk without talking, for some reason she found her tongue harder to cease at the presence of this woman. Perhaps it was because she had a fondness for the Inquisitor. Or perhaps something about the way she held herself reminded her of ghosts from her past. In either case, it would be best to turn the unexpected guest over to Josephine as soon as possible. Affairs of nobles in the light were more the Antivan’s specialty than hers.

Although, secrets always helped in certain conversations.

“Allow me to express my condolences for your loss, Lady Trevelyan,” Lelianna said allowing sympathy to color her speech. She watched from the corner of her eye Corinthia’s body jump, before the surprise was schooled from her features.

“I was unaware that the Inquisition had been aware. We had not yet had time to announce it publically.”

“We have a few friends in Ostwick, they were kind enough to let us know.”

“Well, I had hoped to tell my daughter personally,” Lady Trevelyan began testily. Before Lelianna opened the door to Josephine’s office, she interrupted.

“The Inquisitor is not aware of her father’s death.”

Josephine’s first impression as the door opened was of a face of shock, as the woman stared at Lelianna. And of the cold barely hidden anger on The Nightingale’s normally stoic face. Ever the diplomat, Josephine steeled herself into the picture of Ambassadorship, standing at her desk.

“Good morning, Lelianna. To what do I owe this early morning visitation?”

Lelianna gave a thin smile, her mask once more in place. “Ambassador Montilyet, may I present Lady Corinthia Trevelyan, just arrived this morning. She has business with the Inquisition.”

“Lady Trevelyan, it is an honor. You must have traveled quite a ways. Ostiwick is certainly not a quick journey.”

It took another moment before Lady Trevelyan was composed enough to enter and stand before Josephine. “I must speak with my daughter as soon as possible.”

“I was under the impression, Lady Trevelyan, from our last communication, you wanted little to do with the Inquisition. May I inquire then what has changed?”

“It is in regards to familial matters. Private family matters. However, as your attendant has stated-“

“Lelianna is in no way my attendant, your ladyship, but do go on.”

“As she has stated, it seems that the Inquisition is aware of these family matters already.”

“Ah, yes Lelianna does make it a point to keep her ear to the ground. I assume then this is in regards to the late Bann Trevelyan.”

Corinthia Trevelyan only nodded, and a hint of sadness came into those cold eyes. She brought up a hand, and with a quick snap the closest attendant materialized at her side, a white scroll neatly placed on the desk in front of Josephine.

Without a word, Josephine sat at her desk, allowed Corinthia to sit as well. From the corner of her eye she saw Lelianna disappear into the shadows, making herself a third party to the events.

Corinthia continued, adjusting to the chair as stiffly as she held herself standing. “As you are aware, my daughter is the eldest child of the Trevelyan family. Years ago, we had prospects of her taking over the family household. And as you no doubt have guessed, this was not to be. My husband, may his soul be at peace with The Maker, spoke nothing of the events that transpired all those years ago. However, on his death bed, he bade me once more extend the hand of family to his lost daughter. All this, I believe, in the hopes of repairing a rift.”

Josephine delicately untied the cord of string, unfurling the scroll before her. After a quick perusal, her face grew grim. “This states the rights of full inheritance to Anaya Trevelyan on the event of the death of Bann Austmere Trevelyan.”

Lady Trevelyan only nodded. In the corner, Lelianna slid further until she disappeared entirely from the room. Josephine suspected she was returning to the tower, to gather information no doubt.

“Before she left, my daughter and my husband were close. And while he had three other children besides her, he always held her as his favorite. Eldest or not, she was a child of great promise. He loved her dearly.”

“Not nearly enough to make contact after ten years it would seem.”

Lady Trevelyan waved away the sly animosity with a careless brush of the hand.

“He was heartbroken. On the night she left, my husband was distraught, and betrayed. It did not take long for him to regret his anger. However, any attempts to reconnect with her were either brushed away, or denied outright by my daughter.”

Josephine knew for a fact no attempt had been made. And if she knew Anaya, she would have never outright denied any attempt at family reconnection. One had only to ask Dorian to discover this was fact. “Still, to claim all rights given to Anaya? Is it not customary in the Free Marches for the matron to inherit?”

“In some cases,” Corinthia agreed, brushing off invisible dust from her shawl. “But it would seem my husband had other plans.”

“I see. That must have been a surprise to you, your Ladyship?”

Corinthia only shrugged her shoulders.

“I confess I was confused at first. But my husband was always a kind soul. In his eyes, I imagine he was making amends to Andraste. Allowing his place at the Maker’s side, by clearing his debts in life. And as my own child is the Herald, I can see why he thought as such.”

Never mind, Josephine thought, the first letter she’d sent back in Haven had been returned with words that spoke of heresy. In the end, all that had mattered was guilt.

“I can understand,” she said instead, looking over the scroll once more. “Once you saw this truth behind your own confusion, I imagine you thought it only proper to speak with the Inquisitor yourself.”

“She deserved to hear it from her own mother.”

Josephine let the scroll drop from her hands to land softly on the piles of papers she already possessed. They all contained letters claiming trade rights, the requests for aid, the small disputes that the Inquisitor had no time for, and would be left to Cullen, Lelianna, and herself. This was just another issue to be handled.

“Lady Trevelyan, I will be honest with you at this time, because I believe your husband had the right of it. While this gesture would not have repaired that rift between himself and his daughter, it would have been a good way to show his regrets of that night. However,” she barreled on, ignoring Corinthia’s need to interject. “The Inquisitor is preoccupied with matters of life altering proportions. The matters of family business would have to be put off until such time she has the means to do so.”

“Oh yes, I am aware,” Corinthia interrupted, “That is why I must speak with her about important matters. If she cannot come home, I believe an alternative placeholder can be found.”

“A placeholder?”

“Well, more a partner. Someone who can handle matters of importance in her stead.”

“And I supposed you have just the person for it.”

“Well, it would be proper to discuss this with my child before I reveal too much, but,” and she paused a moment, to snap her fingers yet again. The attendant rushed forward, placing yet another scroll before Josephine. This one however, bared a separate seal, a coat of arms she knew from her time in court.

“A seal from the Arl of West Hills?”

“Arl Wulff’s youngest son has long since been a bachelor, serving quite faithfully under King Alistair’s guard. Recently he was injured in the Mage Rebellion. As such he is fit once more to marry, and has the know withal to govern, even at the level required for Trevelyan.”

“And he’s expressed a desire to marry the Inquisitor?”

“Well, to be more precise, he was meant to marry her many years ago, but circumstances being what they are. My daughter was betrothed since before this whole mess, she was aware of her duties.”

It seemed, Josephine realized, tenacity was a common trait of the Trevelyan’s. Yet only Anaya had done any good with it. Josephine knew only how frustrating it must have been for that young girl. To be constantly reminded that she was set to be married every day. Married to a man she’d never met.

While a common enough practice, and one Orlais did often, Josephine found it hard to picture Anaya agreeing to such a bargain, whether she be 17 or 27.

“An offer of marriage from an Arl’s son would have been a great asset to the Trevelyan’s I imagine. A marriage to The Herald of Andraste would be a true bargain.”

Corinthia glared. “I’m not sure I like what you are implying, Madame Ambassador.”

“You are aware that your daughter is attracted to women, I assume.”

The poignant silence was heavy with accusations. It was stifling, but Josephine knew it had to be brought to the table. The true reasons for Anaya’s departure. Only ever implied through little conversations. How she was so tentative to Sera’s obvious flirtation, before coming out of her shell.

The look on Anaya’s mother face spoke volumes. A clear disgust that marred the cracking façade of mourning mother.

“A phase, spoken as a teenager, in a fit of passion.”

“A phase? One that has lasted for over 15 years?”

“A rebellious phase. She was a teenager, overwhelmed perhaps by her duties to her family. We are a large family, and Ostwick might be small, but prosperous. We wanted what would be best for her. And the Arl’s son would not have minded her proclivity for swords and fighting.”

“Anaya is the most skilled warrior I have ever had the pleasure to meet, Lady Trevelyan.”

The two attendants squirmed from behind Corinthia as she tensed further. No more masks, Josephine thought, just a woman who despised she couldn’t make her daughter how she wanted. If she had been a fool, Josephine might have bought it at first. The teary recounts of her husband’s death, her wishes for the better of her daughter. But one thing had given her away since the beginning.

Corinthia’s hands clenched, drawing white on thin boney fingers. “A smuggler, she was a smuggler.”

“Yes,” Josephine spoke at length. “A skill she has put to use for the Inquisition. A job that led her to the position she is now. Would you deny that this position was all ordained to lead her to the path as the Herald? As the Maker’s chosen?”

Corinthia hissed under her breath. “’The Maker’s Chosen’. The Maker would never choose a woman who beds women as his chosen. As I said before, such heresy goes against The Chantry. Goes against everything-“

“You believe in, Your Ladyship?”

Her jaw snapped shut, face painfully morphing back into a look of indifference. Slowly, her gaze shifted away from Josephine, to stare for off into the distance at the Inquisition Regalia strewn about the walls.

“I wonder, Ambassador, how the masses would feel. Knowing their Herald beds in sin. The people would be sickened. The Chantry, so weak for your support, would cry foul. If someone were to speak freely of such matters, they might unravel the word of the Inquisitor as their ‘Herald’.”

It was to be blackmail then, Josephine thought stomach curling in disgust. Before she could think better in her own training of courtesy, she felt her tongue slip.

“It is nearly impossible to believe you share blood with her.”

Lady Trevelyan snapped her gaze back to Josephine, fire in those angry eyes.

“Make no mistake, Lady Montilyet, that is my daughter. My husband might have forgiven past transgression before his passing, but I still see this establishment for what it is. My daughter will marry, and all assets of the Trevelyan household will fall to her husband. A man who I know will work hard to please his mother-in-law. I will live out my life happily as a widow, and whatever my daughter wishes to do with her ‘life’ she can do outside of the needs of Ostwick-”

“Anaya.”

Corinthia balked at the interruption, staring at Josephine. “What?”

“Her name. It is Anaya. Not once since you arrived have you used it. I wonder after all, Lady Trevelyan, if you’ve said it in 10 years. So hear me now,” Josephine continued, standing from her desk, taking all her lessons from watching Cullen and Lelianna to heart. She glared down at Corinthia, loomed.

“Anaya Trevelyan is the Inquisitor. She leads the Inquisition with her heart, thinking of the needs of the many, instead of the one. At this time, your dearest daughter is currently involved in a relationship with a wonderful young elf named Sera. One who would take any opportunity to see you fall in the mud in the streets of Ostwick, but only delays her people because of love. There will be no arrangement between us other than the full support of the Trevelyan family, who will support The Inquisition. If you so wish a peaceful life of splendor, I have no doubts Anaya would willing declare all inheritance to the next in line. However,” Josephine barreled on, ignoring the angry sputtering before her. “I believe your son, Mikael claims that particular title. He is of an age to inherit, and recently I have been made aware he wishes to support any means to his sister, one he misses quite dearly. Something about, ‘honoring his father’s last wishes’. I will speak with the Inquisitor myself of course, but I feel she will agree with me.”

“You cannot do-“

“I believe you will find I can and will. Do you think we were unaware? Of Anaya’s past? In the beginning it was merely to quell rumors, but overtime we learned of the treatment you have dispensed to your daughter. While I will not speak ill of the dead, I know repairing a rift with guilt does not excuse the horrors you subject and did to your eldest.”

Josephine reached over, grabbing the missive from the Arl. “We will respond accordingly to the Arl ourselves, informing him there will be no marriage. However, if he wishes to assist, we could use to trade agreements from the West Hills.”

Corinthia stood, face bright red in anger. “The Chantry will hear of this…this….atrocity!”

“I do hope so. It will be a good point to show to the whole of Thedas that regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation, Andraste loves all. Now, Lady Trevelyan,” she finished, gesturing to the gaping attendant, who scrambled back. “We will supply you with ample provisions for the journey back to Ostwick. We will be in touch regarding the inheritance. And the Inquisition conveys its deepest sympathies to the loss of Bann Trevelyan. Perhaps, the Inquisitor will visit. To mourn, and to heal. Your attendant knows the way out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anaya stood at the window of the library, watching the courtyard below. She stared in silence as she watched her mother assisted back into the carriage she arrived in. The sickening feeling in her stomach was only ever combated with the pure relief that she had not been required to attend her.

They thought themselves slick. The dorks.

Anaya had been aware the first moment the carriage arrived. She would call it intuition, but honestly it was pure luck. A flick of an eye out the window to admire the view of Skyhold. Dorian had been quietly mumbling at the shelves, complaining of fairy tale stories with little to no romance.

When Bull had wandered up to the library, so big he took up the space of that little nook, she knew he was there only to keep her away. He was slick, and his Ben-Hassrath training was good. But in the time she had gotten to know her friends, she had learned all their tells.

Tea, she thought, silently snickering. The wonders never ceased.

As the carriage made its slow retreat back on the mountain path towards the north, Anaya turned. The Iron Bull and Dorian were leaned into each other, debating about the texts of older Tevinter war tactics. Anaya looked out the window, saw Josephine standing beside Lelianna where her mother once vacated, expressions grim.

Across the way, she spotted the window of Sera’s bedroom above the tavern, as she slept sprawled on a stack of cushions. No doubt with her mouth open and snoring quiet delicately.

The feeling of love grew within her heart. Whatever her mother had wanted, she did not get it. She never got her, and she would never get her family.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any grammatical errors as I wrote this rather quickly. I might write again, something with more meat, but I just loved the idea of everyone in the Inquisition defending The Inquisitor (who is more than capable of taking care of themselves) against something that isn't an Arch Demon (well kind of)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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